Worry is for the Weak
by Ahja Reyn
Summary: Dick is about to set off on a mission far more dangerous than what he usually encounters and Damian doesn't like it. At all.


**Title**: Worry is for the Weak  
><strong>Characters<strong>: Damian, Dick, with Tim on the side  
><strong>Rating<strong>: safe  
><strong>AN**: This idea was inspired by the first issue of the Batman reboot.

**Worry is for the Weak**

Damian's ears pulled back to better hear the footfalls as they crept into the room. From the ridiculously slow gait, he could tell whoever it was was making an obvious attempt at being sneaky, immediately narrowing his list of suspects down to Grayson. Because he was the only idiot who liked to goof off in this household.

Feeling generous, Damian kept his eyes on his book, allowing Grayson to have his fun for the moment. He glanced up only when green hair began to poke up over the couch, directly behind Drake. A pale face and shadowed eyes shining brightly with twisted amusement followed and just as Drake began to turn his head to acknowledge the presence, a single word was breathed into the teenager's ear.

"Boo."

Drake's double-take turned into a flailing of arms and legs as he fell off the couch in an effort to put some immediate distance between himself and the Joker. Mad laughter filled the room and caused the hair on the back of Damian's neck to stand on end as he gritted his teeth in frustration. He sounded _just_ like him.

Snapping his book shut, Damian stood. "Is it really necessary to wear that thing around the house?"

He did his best to keep his features impassive as wild eyes fixed unblinkingly on him. It was a surprisingly difficult thing to do despite knowing that wasn't really the Joker leaning over the couch.

After a long moment the clown's head flickered out of existence, leaving behind a plain, dotted mask that was pulled off to reveal Dick Grayson's concerned face. Before any reassurances could be voiced, Tim spoke up.

"So you're actually going through with it?"

With Dick's attention successfully diverted, Damian took the opportunity to leave the room.

Damian had thought the ballroom made for an excellent hiding place until Dick actually found him. He considered ignoring Grayson in favor of reading until he realized that would imply that something was bothering him.

Heaven forbid he give any of his "siblings" a reason to play the part of concerned older brother.

He set the book aside just as Grayson started climbing the stairs to the small stage.

"Did you need something?" he asked neutrally, crossing his arms and straightening his posture.

Dick hesitated before closing the distance between them and sliding down the wall to sit next to Damian on the floor.

"I'm scheduled to have Batman dump me off on Arkham's doorstep tonight."

Damian's eyes moved away from Dick and resolutely stared at the edge of the stage. "Great. Excellent. Have fun trying not to get yourself killed."

A small smirk peeked out from the corners of Dick's mouth. "Do you still want my escrima sticks if I don't make it?"

Damian's jaw jutted out. He had made that comment in jest back when the idea of Dick posing as the Joker in Arkham Asylum had first been put forth. It stopped being funny the second he realized both his father and Grayson were seriously considering it.

The silence stretched on for a bit before Dick realized he wasn't going to receive some witty comeback.

"You know, I honestly expected you to have gone though all of my things already and written up a will for me to sign."

Damian couldn't help but snort. "Like you have anything materialistic that would be of value to me."

"Hey! I have…stuff," Dick finished lamely when he failed to think of anything specific. "Okay, so what if I'm not materialistic? Last I checked, your esoteric humor didn't rely on such logic."

Damian pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Giving up on trying to keep the conversation light-hearted, Dick cut to the chase. "Damian, the way you've been acting lately has kind of thrown us all for a loop."

"And what way is that?" Damian forced himself to turn his head to face Dick, daring him to finish calling him out on his actions.

Dick's eyes met and locked with his. "Concerned."

It was a stupid dare anyways and Damian returned his attention to the room at large. "Is that a problem?"

He heard Dick's sigh and struggled to keep his defenses from rising.

"No, it's great. It lets us know that you're really human."

Damian snarled at the less-than enthused tone. "Try not to sound so thrilled." He dropped from his curled position and reached for his book. Now was a good time as any to leave.

Instead he found his arm in a vice grip as he was unceremoniously dragged flush against Grayson's side. Any normal means of escape was prevented by a muscular arm thrown over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"Having a moment," Dick answered calmly, refusing to relinquish his hold as Damian struggled. "Now stay still. This may be the last real interaction we ever have."

Heart dropping uncomfortably into his stomach, something cold spread through Damian's chest and he wrenched himself free, scrambling to the edge of the stage in order to put some space between them before turning around and running an agitated hand through his hair. "Why would you even _say_ that? How can you be so ready to die over-over nothing! It's just for a lead in a case!"

Dick's eyes were sad as they stared up at Damian in shock. "You really are worried about me…"

"I'm not worried!" Damian snarled, his voice echoing in the empty ballroom.

"Okay, fine." Dick braced his hands against the wall behind him as he moved to stand. "You're scared."

Damian froze in his unintentional pacing.

Dick took the opportunity to close the distance between them, careful to leave a few feet of space to prevent Damian from bolting. "Have a bit of faith in me, alright? Bruce wouldn't let me go out there if he didn't completely believe in me. He's got a track record of doing that."

"Father's kept you from missions before?" Damian frowned.

"Yeah. But that's in the past now, so you shouldn't judge me for it."

A flash of smugness ran through Damian. Father had never successfully stopped _him_ from going on missions. Yet.

"Point is, the fact that Bruce is supporting me in this decision should be enough to calm everyone's fears."

"Because he knows the extent of the abilities that you didn't even know you had," Damian snorted, stubbornly looking away.

"Actually, yeah." Dick slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "He does."

Some of the fight left Damian and he warily looked up at Dick. "You can honestly say with confidence that you'll survive alone in Arkham with every villain — most of whom you helped put there — while _successfully_ pretending to be the Joker, and then come home unscathed and alive?"

Dick thoughtfully began to nod before aborting the motion with a tilt of his head. "Well, I don't want to go making promises in the off chance that something _does_ go wrong, but," he shrugged, "I was born in a circus. I'm meant to perform. This mission is just a twisted version of that."

Damian knew he looked less than convinced.

"Look, I know you don't like it, but I'd feel a lot better if you had at least a little bit of confidence in me."

"_You'd_ feel better?" Damian scoffed, but took a step towards Dick regardless.

"What if I write home every day?" Dick offered.

Damian's eyes narrowed. "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"That depends on how you feel about being addressed to as Harley."

Damian drew back, mildly disgusted. "Is it really that impossible for you to hold a serious discussion for more than ten minutes?"

Dick was prevented from answering by the sound of Alfred clearing his throat from the doorway.

"Master Bruce is waiting for you downstairs, sir."

"Thanks, Alfred." Dick bent down and picked up Damian's book. "This is it. Now can we have our moment?" He spread his arms in invitation.

"No." Damian reached out and snatched the book back before turning to walk off the stage towards the main doorway. "But I am willing to hang on to your escrima sticks until you get back. Maybe I'll even use them a bit when I help capture the Joker."

At Dick's bark of laughter, Damian allowed himself a small smile. With any luck, things would turn out okay.

_The End._


End file.
